


What about Bruce Springsteen?

by handyhunter



Category: X-Men (comicsverse), X-Men: First Class - Fandom
Genre: Bruce Springsteen - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2010-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:30:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handyhunter/pseuds/handyhunter





	What about Bruce Springsteen?

"What about Bruce Springsteen?"

Bobby frowns. "Not a mutant."

Warren thwaps him on the head with a wing. "I know that!"

"Hey!" Bobby ducks away, out from under stray feathers, and throws an iceball at him. The first one glances off Warren's shoulder. The second hits Scott square in the chest as he and Jean round the corner to the living room, and the third and fourth hang suspended over the ottoman, on which Hank's bare feet lie.

"Thank you," he says to Jean.

"My pleasure," she replies.

"Ow," says Scott, dazed and sitting on the rug. "What is going on? Didn't we implement a rule about snowball fights in the house?"

"He started it." Bobby points an icy finger at Warren.

Warren offers Scott a hand up. "I'm not the one throwing snowballs."

"Well, of course not," Bobby huffs. He retrieves the evidence from Jean and throws them out the window before the Professor finds out.

"I have these tickets," Warren says by way of explanation, "for Bruce Springsteen. From my dad," he hastens to add, because the Boss is _old_. "His company gets them all the time." He shows Scott the soggy envelope with two concert tickets.

"Oh, well, uh, thanks, Warren." Scott offers one of the tickets to Jean. "Want to go?"

"What? Wait!" But Warren's sputtering protests are drowned out by Bobby's laughter, and if Scott and Jean, exiting the room, hear him, they give no indication of it.

The remaining three hear Jean's "I love Bruce Springsteen!" as the door swings shut.

_That_, thinks Hank calmly, under his fortress of pillows and cushions, as feathers and snowballs fly anew, _is only because you believe he wrote a song just for you._

The Jean in his mind laughs, and looks at a blushing Scott. _What do you think my chances are of hearing him sing it at this concert?_


End file.
